Disconnected
by PreciousDelight
Summary: AU. Sam and Dean were both adopted by different families when John turned out unfit to raise his children due to alcohol abuse after Mary died. Sam's family moved to England, while Dean stayed in the US. Rated M just to be safe.
1. Prologue

**A/N**: My first attempt at a multi-chapter Supernatural fic, so bear with me a little. I know this has been done before, so I hope my story is at least a little original. Let me know what you think, whether you want me to continue, etc.

**Summary**: AU. Sam and Dean were both adopted by different families when John turned out unfit to raise his children due to alcohol abuse after Mary died. Sam's family moved to England, while Dean stayed in the US.

_Prologue_

"_NO, no Daddy please!" Six year old Dean was fighting the social worker who was trying to take him away from his family with all of the force he could muster up, but it was useless. His father watched helplessly as they took his two children away, the only things left in Mary's memory. He tried to fight it, he tried with all his might, but it was a lost case and now he was doomed to watch his children be taken away. _

_Little Sammy was crying, his arms stretched out, hoping to cling onto Dean. The despair written onto the little boy's face was heartbreaking and reduced John to tears._

"_Daddy, please, don't let them take us!" Dean whispered and looked at his father expectantly. Maybe now, Daddy would be the superhero he always was when he was fighting monsters, too, and grab them and run away with them so they wouldn't have to leave. John shakily sat down onto the nearest chair and tried to blink away the tears so they didn't blur his vision. He didn't want the last memory of his sons to be blurred. Dean's arms and legs went limp when he realized Daddy wasn't going to come and save them, and he looked at John with such a hurt look across his face, and it broke his heart – he wondered if it was still possible to break, seeing as it was in tiny pieces already. Though, how much it might hurt, John knew what a horrible father he'd become and that this would somehow turn out for the better for his children because they were going to families that would take better care of them than he ever could._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: First chapter! Yay! Some bits are not as good as other parts, and I really hope it's not too cheesy or anything. And just to let you know: all characters of the story will be brought back as their original self, doing what they originally do on the show, they only met the boys under different circumstances, so the situations between them will be different from the show.

And another point of attention: I know nothing about the American school and college system or the British, so I don't know if it's really possible for Sam to go to Stanford if he didn't go to high school in the states. I just like to pretend it is possible.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

_(Six months before pilot. Sam 22, Dean 26.)_

He awoke with a start, a thin sheet of sweat covering his brow and bare back. Wiping a hand across his tired face, he wondered if the nightmare was ever going to stop. He had been plagued with the same nightmare, at least once every week, ever since he was little. His parents said it was nothing more than a creation of his fear of losing his family, but every time he woke up gasping after dreaming of a woman burning on the ceiling, he couldn't help but feel something familiar about it.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep now, and seeing it was almost 6:30am already, he climbed out of bed. He grabbed a towel and some clean clothes before drunkenly wobbling to the bathroom. He let the shower's hot water slowly ease him into the world of the living and by the time he'd finished up in the shower it was closing on 7:15.

He was shaken out of his thoughts -- which were with the weird nightmare again -- when his phone started to ring. Curious as to who would be calling this early, he quickly moved to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

"Hello?" he answered, his phone in one hand and holding the towel around his waist with the other.

"Sam?"a very well-known voice asked on the other side of the line.

"Bela, hey," Sam answered and sat down on the edge of his bed, a smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning. Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't, I was in the shower."

"Oh. Anyway, I have a surprise for you." His smile brightened.

"Like what?"

"Open your door. It should be there by now." He chuckled at her playfulness and walked over to the door. He unlocked it and took off the chain before opening it and seeing Bela stand right in front of him, telephone still glued to her ear. When she saw him, she smiled a smile that could light up an entire town if necessary. They both hung up and he enveloped her in his arms and he took in her delicious scent.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes slightly wider than usual when he looked her up and down, taking in every little detail about her. He'd missed her very much ever since he moved from Southend-on-sea, England, to California to go to Stanford. His memory didn't do her well, he realized, and he cupped her face in his hands before kissing her passionately. She returned it longingly before she broke the kiss and stared down at the floor. He followed her gaze and chuckled.

"Right, maybe I should put on some clothes first. A towel won't cut it, I think."

* * *

Slamming his fist down on the alarm clock next to his bed, he cursed the damned thing for waking him up from such an amazing dream. He couldn't remember most of it, but the ecstasy of it still filled him. The part he could still remember was shockingly good to say the least. Now, full-on grinning, he turned around to see his girlfriend still sound asleep next to him. She looked so peaceful and not in any way disturbed by the sound of the alarm, that he couldn't bare to wake her just yet. Careful not to wake her, he got out of bed and got dressed before heading down the stairs to the kitchen. His stomach was rumbling and he fancied pancakes.

Halfway through his first stack, he head her tiptoe down the stairs and he pretended not to hear her. He felt her slip her arms across his waist and hug him good morning, and he smiled at the feeling she stirred up in his chest. After seven years, she still sometimes made him feel just like a silly schoolgirl would when the cutest boy in school looked at her. Not that he would ever admit it, or ever phrase it like that ever again.

He took the pan off the stove and put the last pancake on her plate before turning around to face her. Her hair looked like a haystack on top of her head and her eyes were still partially shut from sleep, but he couldn't think of anything else to call her than _perfect_. Like always.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he whispered before tenderly placing a kiss on her lips.

"Morning," she mumbled back and they both sat down at the dinner table for breakfast. When he was finished, he nervously fumbled with the hem of his shirt as he waited for her to finish up too. "Is something wrong, Dean?" she asked, fork lingering halfway from her plate to her mouth.

"No, just finish your breakfast," he answered, a little more curtly than he would've liked. She just looked at him a little confused, before she shrugged barely noticeable and continued eating.

"Now what do you want me to do, sir?" He flinched slightly at her calling him 'sir' - vague memories of having to call his father 'sir' flashed in the back of his mind.

"Get dressed, maybe?" he said, a cheeky smile spreading onto his face when he caught her in his arms. "Or better yet, don't, you look perfect the way you're dressed now." Catching her a little off guard, he pulled her by the hand and led her to their garden. There, he'd set up the wooden swing he'd secretly bought the day before.

"Dean, a swing?" she asked, hands on her hips, looking at him incredulously.

"Yes, yes, a swing," he said, ushering her towards it.

"Since when have you gone romantic, Dean Jenkins?"

"Since I want to ask you a question. Will you please sit down, now?" He was getting more nervous by the minute and he couldn't believe he was actually going to do this. Dean Jenkins, womanizer extreme was going to ask his first long-term girlfriend the most important question in his life.

He sat down on his knees in front of her, holding one of her hand in both of his.

"I love you so much. I never thought I'd be here, ready to settle down instead of going out to a bar every weekend to pick up a date. But there's no one else I'd rather settle down with, than with you. Ruby, will you marry me?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I still own nothing.

**A/N**: Hi guys! I got a review that said: "Whoa, interesting couples" , I can tell you that (while watching the show the both of them annoyed me greatly) Bela and Ruby have an important role in the first chapters of this fic.  
Well, that's enough babbling, don't you think? Here's chapter two. Tell me what you think! Oh and spelling errors may be present, I'm not perfect.

_Previously: _

"_Ruby, will you marry me?"_

He'd expected her to do a lot of things in reaction to his proposal like say: jump up in joy and hug him, say yes, but he hadn't expected her to shake her head and walk away from him just like that. She left him sitting in front of the swing, hands fallen into his lap, staring at the empty spot where she sat. Contemplating what he'd done wrong, he slowly stood up and took the ring he bought out of the pocket of his jeans. Staring at it for a few seconds, he wondered what they would be doing now if she said yes. _Probably undressing each other_, he thought, flashing a cocky grin for a moment. Not finding the strength to keep the grin glued to his face, he sighed and put the ring back into his pocket. He'd deal with that later.

He walked back into his house and sat down on the couch, thinking about what he would be doing today. He'd taken the day off from work, so that he and his girlfriend, he'd hoped she would be his fiancee by now, could spend some much needed time together. But he couldn't find the lust to go to work now, he'd have to tell the guys at the auto shop what happened and that wasn't something he was looking forward to. He shrugged and figured that, now that he was free to do anything he wanted anyway, he might as well work on his car.

Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, he made his way to the garage. Standing in the door frame, he admired his black, '67 Cadillac Coupe DeVille which he liked to call his 'Devil' - for a moment, before putting his bottle on the floor next to the right front tire and opening up the hood.

A little while later, while fully engrossed in his work, the door to the garage opened, and Ruby's face shyly peeked out from behind it.

"Dean?" Her voice was small, but it was still loud enough to scare him out of his musings and hit his head against the top of the hood.

"Sonuvabitch," he muttered and carefully got out of his car. "Yes?"

"I'm going to go to the supermarket. OK?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, a little uncomfortable with the situation between them. She nodded, bit her lip and just stood there watching him for a while before she left. He felt weird under her gaze but immediately felt empty as soon as she left. Things with Ruby had been a little strange for a while now, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong between the two of them.

That night, somewhere around three in the morning, he shot up, waking up from a nightmare.  
_He held a little baby boy in his hands, grinning down at him while the baby grabbed his finger with one of his tiny hands. He gurgled, and Dean looked up at his parents. His dad was there, scolding him for being a wimp, pointing at his mother burning on the ceiling._

"No," he gasped and ran a hand over his tired face. He looked besides him, hoping that if Ruby woke up too, he'd be able to talk to her so she could calm him down but she wasn't there. He got up from the bed, feeling the chilly air in the room on his bare chest. Once he made it down to the living area of the house, a creepy feeling crawled up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Ruby?" he questioned, but was still met with silence. He made his way to through the house, barefoot, wearing nothing but boxers, when he found out what made the house so chilly: a broken kitchen window. Deciding against going there to inspect the damage because he didn't want to cut his feet on the glass on the floor, he walked back to the staircase. "Ruby?" He raised his voice, knowing that she was still in the house, her car was still in the driveway. When he reached the entry way, he heard a soft thumping noise from the basement. Cocking his head to the side in confusion, he silently opened the door. He could hear whispering coming from down in the basement, which seemed to be Ruby's voice too. And then a low grunt that could only come from a man's voice, followed. Feeling his temper rise, he slowly and softly descended down the stairs, wanting to catch them doing whatever the hell they were doing down there with his own two eyes.

When he was down halfway, he crouched down so he had a full view of the situation without them being able to see him. What he saw next span his world around and nearly caused him to vomit in disgust. He could see a man tied to one of the drainage pipes in the corner, while Ruby sat in front of him on a chair, her back towards the stair case. She was holding a knife, and from the way she held her body, it almost seemed as if she was enjoying what she was doing.

"So," she said, twirling the knife around between her fingers. Her voice had a tone he didn't recognize. "I'm going to ask you again; where did you hide it?" The man grinned up at her, no sign of fear was evident on his face, actually all of his emotions were carefully hidden behind a smug, pearly white smile.

"You know I won't tell you," he said and Dean recognized the voice. He recognized the voice, the face, even the man's cologne he could vaguely smell.

"At least I tried," Ruby said, standing up from the chair and advancing on the man who looked at her as if he were a soldier gone bad, staring down his executioner. She was about to stab him with the knife again, Dean could see several wounds covering the man's torso already, when Dean decided it was time to reveal himself.

"Ruby." walked down the stairs, slowly, not wanting her to charge him as well.

"Dean," she said, then swirled around and revealed her charcoal black eyes. "I really wish you didn't have to see this."


End file.
